Monday, January 07, 2008

My twelfth post-secondary semester begins!!!

First day of school! New faces, new topics, new textbooks! For reals, I love it.

What I don't love is finding my classes. Even in this, my third semester at UCFV, I still find locating my classes stressful. I'm always afraid (and rightly so) that I'll have read the schedule wrong, or walk into the wrong classroom, and that some cute boy will see me do it, and my life will be over. Hmmm? No, I'm twenty-five.

So today, I head off to my 8:30 class, and I've written the classroom number down in my organizer, but I like to check things once more beforehand because I'm paranoid, but the myUCFV online schedule is down. So I take it in faith that I'm not an idiot, and that I wrote down the correct number the first time. This is, as you may have guessed, a fallacy. Since room A317 is very clearly an office, and not my classroom, I have to dart back down to the library to check the myUCFV online schedule to find my correct classroom, except oh yes, it's down. So I have to trek to the B-building to find the archaic (but cheerfully un-crashable) paper schedule, locate my classroom (let's just say that a 2 can look awfully like a 7) and rush back to the A-building to my class for which I am now late. Worst fear realized again.

I managed to make it to my second class with no mishaps (thank merciful goodness), only to find it packed with people. People sitting on desks, people standing in the back, loads of people. If you're waitlisted, see, you have to show up on the first day to even stand a chance of getting into the class. I had been sixteenth on the waitlist when I registered, but the prof shares an office with a prof who taught me last semester, and she convinced him to let me in. So the prof walked in at 2:30, and you could tell he was a little bit startled by all the shiny faces. 'Oh wow,' he says, 'Uh...hi.' Then he does this little shuffle and says 'I hate to do this, but, um, I've already accepted ten people into this class over and above the limit of twenty-five. So, unless you're registered, or I've contacted you' There was a pause while he waited for people to leave. No one moved. ' I guess you can go? I don't really know how to...hmm. No one's going? Really?' Long awkward silence. 'Uh...there isn't...I won't be accepting any more people into this class, so it's just a waste of your time to...hmm. Well, whatever.' It was awkward.

Almost as awkward as two minutes after the mid-class break ended, while I was finishing up my apple and a good-sized bit fell down my shirt. Now, the break had just ended, and you can't get up and go to the bathroom just after the break ends (at least, not if you're sitting at the very front of the class, which I was) because it's rude. And these people aren't my friends yet, so I couldn't announce in a stage whisper that I'd dropped apple down my shirt, and then remove it. So I sat there, with a cold, sticky bit of fruit wedged between my top stomach roll and my sweater for over an hour. Gross and uncomfortable.

So far a promising start.

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